A Thousand Fallen Petals by Wonwordful
by Twilight Diversity Contest
Summary: Eastern Han Dynasty, 166 A.D. She was a lovely concubine meant for the Chinese emperor. He was the son of a dead Roman emissary travelling along the Silk Road. An unlikely, dangerous romance blooms between the two different worlds.


**Title of Story:** A Thousand Fallen Petals

 **Story Summary:** Eastern Han Dynasty, 166 A.D _._ She was a lovely concubine meant for the Chinese emperor. He was the son of a dead Roman emissary travelling along the Silk Road. An unlikely, dangerous romance blooms between the two different worlds.

 **Pairing:** Bella/Edward

 **Rating:** M

 **Word Count:** 11271

 **Disclaimer** : _The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended. In addition, this story is not an accurate reflection of the time period. Mistakes and anachronisms may be present despite research. Artistic license has also been sprinkled liberally for entertainment purposes._

* * *

 **Glossary**

Li (丽): Beautiful

Rong (容): to hold, to tolerate

Li Rong (丽容): lasting beauty, a feminine Chinese name

Mei, mei li (美, 美丽): more common variant of 'beautiful'

Wei (威): Strength, prestige, also a character used in male names

 **Background**

Serica (in Latin: _of silk_ ): China and the eastern regions, as known to the Romans

Seres (in Latin: _the people of the land of silk)_ : The people of Serica, as known to the Romans

Da Qin (大秦, _the Great Qin_ ): The Roman Empire, as known to the Chinese

Rinan: present-day Vietnam, previously under Chinese rule

Concubine: A woman who lives with a man but has a lower status than his wife. The higher the status of the man, the more concubines he is likely to have. In ancient China, the emperor can have thousands, and they are ranked according to his favour and whether or not they bear sons.

Eunuch: A castrated man employed to guard the living area of women in the imperial court, including the concubines.

* * *

 _The first recorded emissary in China from Rome was sent by Antonius Pius (Roman emperor from 138-161 A.D.) and they arrived in 166 A.D._

* * *

 _Bella._

He'd given her that name.

She hadn't known what it meant, initially. He'd spoken simple, broken words of Chinese that she could hardly understand, and she spoke none of his foreign tongue. Even now she didn't know what language it was.

She stared at the cold steel above her, closing her eyes.

 _Bella._

By a funny twist of fate, it had the same meaning as her original name. Not precisely, but it meant the same thing: Bella. Li Rong. Beautiful.

It was what everyone had said when they saw her as a child. _Na me mei!_ They'd exclaimed, their eyes bright. _How beautiful_ _she is!_

The goddess of beauty had moulded Li Rong with her golden fingers, people sighed. As she'd grown, tales of her loveliness had spread, and artists flocked to paint her classically beautiful features – wide doe-eyes, clear skin and a tiny mouth. The local poets penned extravagant praises for her. _She puts the flowers to shame. She entices the birds to fall, and the fish to sink – so exquisite is she._

Among thousands and thousands of girls who'd gone to Luoyang for the selection, she'd been plucked out of the crowd like a ripe fruit. She'd passed the inspection easily – all of its arbitrary requirements. Slender. A straight nose bridge. Sloping shoulders. Long narrow eyebrows. Lustrous hair. No birthmarks or scars. Check, check, check.

All of it had been for nothing.

Her tightly bound hands closed into fists as she bore the pain. Her kneecaps and ankles ached fiercely from kneeling. The rope bit into already tender skin, cutting off most of her breathing as it looped over her shoulders and tied off at her back. The palace guards knew how to mete out pain with frightening accuracy.

 _Bella_ , he'd whispered.

It was her beauty that was going to kill her, after all. It was her beauty that had driven her mother to commit suicide in a plea for her only daughter's life. It was her beauty that would've killed him, had she not forced him to leave.

She'd been foolish.

So, so foolish.

Of course the eunuchs had been spying on her. There were eyes everywhere within the palace walls. Concubines belonged to the emperor. It didn't matter that he had four thousand of them. It didn't matter that he barely remembered her face, let alone her name. It didn't matter that her mother had done nothing wrong.

All that mattered was that she, a common girl from a modest village, had been chosen as one of the emperor's esteemed concubines – a privileged position many would die for – and she'd thrown it away for a man with whom she had no future. A man she'd never see again.

She'd disgraced herself, she'd disgraced her family, and worst of all, she'd disgraced the emperor himself – the Son of Heaven. She'd soiled his reputation, trampled on it as though it were mud.

And for that, she had to pay with her life.

She was grateful that she had no other family members left for them to execute. With her father having died long before she was born and her mother having committed suicide, the wrath of the emperor could fall only on her shoulders.

She regretted it – what she'd brought upon her mother, upon her village. She regretted what she'd done to herself.

But she couldn't deny that the love and the passion – though fleeting like fireworks – had been beautiful while it lasted.

She bowed her head, ready for the killing blow.

* * *

 _ **Three months earlier**_

" _Currite!"_ Marcus roared, lashing his steed.

The horses brayed, hooves thundering as their small company fled from the Rinan bandits. They ran for their lives, but the gifts they carried – rhinoceros horns, ivory and tortoise shell acquired during their trade along the Silk Road – slowed them down.

One of the bandits clambered onto their carriage and brandished his curved blade, clearly intending to cut it free from the horses and pillage its contents.

Marcus unsheathed his sword, but Eduardus had already released his arrow. It caught the man in the shoulder and he cried out in pain, losing his balance and bouncing and rolling several times along hard gravel.

" _Vadete celerius!_ " Marcus yelled, urging the men to go faster.

The rush was mad. Overworked horses were whipped, more arrows were fired, all this under the relentless glare of the sun. By the time they were safely across the border, Eduardus's shirt was soaked from the exertion, his heart pounding in his ears.

Despite the bandits, spirits were high. They had reached Serica and were finally nearing their destination – the capital _Luoyang_. Their most skilled navigator had estimated an optimistic two months.

The journey had been gruelling. They'd travelled for so many years that Eduardus had grown from a boy to a man along the way. His father, the original emissary, had died of an illness while they were still at sea. Marcus had taken over.

The older man flashed him an approving grin as they slowed, passing him a flask of water with his coarse, vein-rough hands. He'd been a fine surrogate father to Eduardus, caring for the boy and teaching him the way around weapons.

Eduardus wasn't large, coming up just to Marcus's ear. Although agile, his growth had been stunted by the lack of food during their travels. As a result he'd come to favour the bow and arrow over the sword; accuracy and speed over strength. A deadly archer, he could hit targets accurately from astonishing distances and had saved many of their men that way.

"Aquam indigemus," Marcus murmured, as they passed through a mid-sized Serican settlement. _We need water_.

It was Eduardus's turn to ask. He slid down from his horse, glad to be on his feet again. His muscles were sore from the endless riding.

The village was teeming with people bustling about their daily life.

Farmers ploughed the fields, toiling despite the heat, and he heard loud clanking from the blacksmiths. Smoke escaped from the chimney of a large stone structure sitting on a raised platform.

He took it in with awe. As they'd sailed, they'd seen the Kushans and the Parthians during the refuelling along the coast. They'd seen the Rinans, and passed many villages and towns, but he'd never seen such a sophisticated structure. Such a thing didn't exist in Rome, he mused, as he watched the blacksmith scoop molten metal from the large pit, pour it into a mould and begin to hammer.

If they had blacksmiths, they had water – but where? And how could he ask? The further they'd travelled, the more widely the language began to deviate from Latin. 'Nước' had been the Rinan word for water, but what was the word for it here?

"Nước?" he tried asking a passerby, but only received a puzzled look. "Aqua?" he tried again, this time in Latin. The man scratched his head and walked away after giving him a strange look.

Eduardus wandered along the marketplace, searching for someone to ask.

People were busy with their labour – spinning, farming, hammering, hardly taking any notice of him.

That was when he saw her – a girl with a bucket of water. Water!

He approached her cautiously. Perceived harassment of local women could get a foreigner like him beaten and killed.

"Me excusa," he said tentatively. "Me excusa, domina..."

She stopped, and his heart nearly stopped as well.

Even barefaced and in simple clothes, the peasant girl was arresting. Her features were exquisitely feminine, beautiful – seeming to belong in a painting or on a doll. That she was living and breathing before him was a shock.

He blinked at her dumbly and she tilted her head, confused by his behaviour.

The movement made him catch himself, made him realise that he was acting like a fool seeing the sky for the first time. He cleared his throat, regaining his bearings. Water. He needed water.

"Aqua," he gestured at her filled bucket. "Ubi?"

She squinted at him.

"Ni yao shen me a?" she asked.

"Aqua," he repeated. Exaggeratedly, he mimed slurping water from his hands.

The look of disgust flitting over her features was a clear sign that she'd misunderstood.

"Non, non," he said hastily, realising that his gesture could be seen as lewd, but a beefy blacksmith had stepped in front of her, glaring at Eduardus.

 _Faex_.

He took a step back, raising his hands in surrender.

"Aqua," he repeated. _Mehercle!_ He just wanted water! He pointed at the bucket, and mimed drinking again – this time from a cup.

Understanding lit up in the girl's eyes, but the blacksmith was already yelling at him, saying something he couldn't understand. Within seconds, more men had gathered around him, distrust and antagonism in their eyes.

This was bad. This was very bad. Where was Marcus?

Eduardus looked around, but realised he'd wandered too far into the village centre, out of sight of the others.

There was more yelling, and he could see that the crowd around him was getting angrier and angrier. The girl tried to say something, but no one was paying attention to her.

Faex, faex _, faex!_

Eduardus cursed to himself, wanting to leave but unable to do so with so many people surrounding him. Out of nowhere, someone's fist shot out, catching him hard in the jaw. The blacksmith. He hurled another punch and Eduardus threw his hands before his face, not daring to fight back for fear of escalation.

As he backed away, he slammed into a man in the crowd, unintentionally elbowing him in the nose. It was the only spark they needed. There was a cry of rage and then fists and feet began to rain down on him from all directions. He fell to the ground, stars exploding before his eyes, tasting blood in his mouth.

On the other side of the commotion, Li Rong watched with dismay.

"Bie da le!" she shouted, grabbing onto blacksmith Wen. " _Bie da le!" Stop fighting!_

But no one was listening to her.

Determined to stop them, she grabbed her bucket of cold water, throwing it over the furious men. It surprised them enough that they paused.

She seized the chance to speak. _Stop hitting him! It was a misunderstanding. He was asking for water!_

Blacksmith Wen glared at her. _Don't be foolish! These foreigners – they're all the same. All they do is steal and pester our women! Just look at the Rinan thieves. We gave them our hospitality and they plunder our livestock!_

 _He doesn't look like he's from Rinan,_ she argued back. _And thieves don't steal in broad daylight._

There were murmurs as people weren't sure whether or not to believe her. The argument was interrupted by the clacking of wood against stone.

 _Now, now, what's going on here?_

It was old lady Xiu. The crowd parted, giving way to the village elder as she hobbled towards them with her stick. Her shrewd eyes took in the battered traveller. _What are you doing?_

 _He was harassing Li Rong!_ The blacksmith said heatedly.

 _He wasn't,_ Li Rong countered. _It was a misunderstanding. He wanted water._

Old lady Xiu shook her head. _Listen to the girl. Do you know that his companions are outside?_

Blacksmith Wen seemed unhappy, but no one dared to argue with old lady Xiu.

There were murmured apologies. Someone helped the traveller up, another gave him a damp cloth. Someone else passed him some medicine. The crowd dispersed, the disorder dissolving as quickly as it had come.

Old lady Xiu gave Li Rong a nudge with her stick. _You're too beautiful for your own good. I keep telling your mother to send you for the selection, but she's stubborn as a mule._ She eyed the traveller, who seemed confused by the crowd's sudden change in attitude. _Be careful when you show him where the water is. His lot has many weapons._ Li Rong nodded her head respectfully to the elder as she limped towards Li Rong's home, no doubt to nag Li Rong's mother about the selection again.

The traveller's eye was swelling, his lip split. He seemed wary of speaking to her. Despite having done nothing wrong, Li Rong felt a twinge of guilt. Cautiously, she reached for the damp cloth and medicine in his hands, taking them and gesturing for him to follow her.

Eduardus was anxious about following the girl. His ribs ached from where they'd kicked him, and he was sore everywhere else. But she tapped her bucket, clearly indicating that she was going to show him where the water was. He glanced around and saw that people had returned to their work, having completely lost interest in the spectacle.

He'd come this far, he might as well find out where the water was.

Guardedly, he followed her down a winding path to a well. Without him having to ask, she lowered the bucket into the well before hoisting it up with the handle, showing him how the mechanism worked.

Then she dipped her fingers into the water.

"Shui," she said.

"Excusa?"

"Shui," she repeated patiently, dipping her fingers into the water again. He couldn't help himself from noticing how beautiful her hands were – long, elegant fingers and a delicate wrist.

"Shui," he echoed. The Serican word for water.

But she shook her head. "Shuuiii," she made a downwards and then an upwards motion with her finger, baffling him.

"Shui," he repeated, unable to tell the difference, and she only smiled – an enthralling smile. He expected her to leave, but she stayed with what was unmistakeably guilt in her eyes.

She emptied the bucket and turned it upside down, gesturing for him to sit as she took out the cloth and ointment from her pocket.

Eduardus remained standing, afraid that he would get beaten again, but the girl was insistent. She steered him by the shoulders, pushing him down to sit. Then without waiting for permission, she dabbed the medicine over his eyelid and the cuts on his face.

"Gracias tibi ago," he thanked her.

She paused as he stood, and handed the ointment and strips of cloth to him, gesturing at his shirt. He understood her meaning. She was asking him to apply it to the rest of his body.

Then without another word, she pushed the bucket into his hands and disappeared into the market crowd.

 _Where did you get the bucket?_ Marcus asked him later. _And what happened to your face?_

 _A small scuffle_ , Eduardus told him off-handedly. The girl's lovely countenance still burned brightly in his mind, his throbbing cuts a vivid reminder of her gentle touches.

He brushed the thought of her aside again, the way he had dozens of times in the past few hours, but it kept coming back, together with a racing heartbeat and butterflies.

A suspicion crept into his mind. _Amor a primo conspectu._

 _Love at first sight_. Truly?

He'd never believe in it before, but it seemed as though the gods conspired to prove him wrong. He gazed at the moon, reaching for the single memorabilia of home he carried.

He fingered the delicate, finely-spun gloves that his mother had given him before he'd left, seven years ago. They glowed dimly in the moonlight.

 _It was her beauty_ , he decided, as he turned over on his animal-skin rug. _Her beauty was bewitching._ He fell asleep, his dreams filled with captivating eyes and bell-like laughter.

* * *

It the early dawn, barely five, and the birds had just begun their chirping. But Li Rong was already up. She donned her Hanfu, tying the sash around her waist.

Her mother was in a dark mood as she stirred the porridge, not speaking, and Li Rong knew why.

Old lady Xiu's visit yesterday.

To Li Rong's mother, the elder was nosy and relentless. She'd been trying in all manner of ways to convince her mother to send her to _Luoyang_ , the capital, for the concubine selection.

Li Rong hadn't been home during her visit, but she knew exactly what old lady Xiu would've said, because she'd been saying the same thing every year since Li Rong had turned fourteen.

 _It would give her a better future_. _She would live a pampered life in the palace and all the better if she catches the eye of the emperor_.

 _What a waste of her beauty – rotting away in this poor village, working on farms and whatnot!_

 _If her father were still alive, he would've sent her. Can you even afford to marry her off? You hardly have any money for her dowry. You really should've considered remarrying. I heard farmer Zhang is looking for a second wife..._

Her mother slammed the bowls onto the table.

Li Rong guessed that old lady Xiu must've raised the pressure this year, because Li Rong's sixteenth birthday was next week. Once she turned seventeen, she would no longer be an eligible candidate.

Her mother picked up her chopsticks, and then scowled at Li Rong's yet untouched bowl. "Ni bu xiang chi ya?" she snapped.

Li Rong hastily reached for her own chopsticks.

Old lady Xiu meant well. She truly thought she was helping Li Rong and her mother. For the last sixteen years since her father had died, Li Rong's mother spun silk fabric day and night, ploughing on their little farm and tirelessly working to put food on the table. No man wanted to care for a child that wasn't his own – especially not a girl child – and so her mother had been unable to remarry.

Li Rong quietly ate the watered-down porridge, watching the tired lines on her mother's face, and the weathered skin of her hands.

Perhaps old lady Xiu did have a point. Perhaps she'd lessen the burden on her mother if she went to the capital.

"Ye xu wo ke yi..." she began, but her mother rose suddenly, and Li Rong stopped speaking.

Her mother's eyes were filled with pain, sorrow and indecision. She pushed her half-eaten bowl towards her daughter. "Chi," she said, ordering her to eat. She placed the plate of pickled vegetables nearer to Li Rong and left the house, making her way to the back to spin more silk.

Li Rong's eyes became glassy as she looked at the amount of porridge her mother had left for her. Despite her mother's short temper and harsh words, her love was unquestionable. Working herself half to death was one of her ways of showing it. Food was another. How many women would bother with a female infant after its father's death? Even with living husbands, she knew enough mothers who'd smothered their own daughters, not wanting another female mouth to feed.

She finished her food quietly and rose to fetch water from the well.

Perhaps her mother was worrying too much.

The chances of her being chosen as a concubine were slim, with thousands and thousands of girls competing for the position. It was odd, how sure her mother and old lady Xiu seemed to be of her winning a spot.

She opened the door, feeling the cool breeze against her face as she reached the well.

Footsteps echoed behind her.

"Salve," she heard a familiar voice greet.

It was the traveller from yesterday. He still had her bucket and she stepped back, letting him draw water first – a common courtesy towards guests. He smiled at her unexpectedly, a small smile that touched his eyes.

In the early rays of the morning, she saw his eyes properly for the first time. Jade-green and brilliant, they shone like jewels in his face. She'd seen lighter shades of brown before, and once even blue on a northern Chinese boy, but green was a new colour.

She realised she was staring at him and lowered her lashes bashfully.

There was a creak as he twisted the handle, drawing water. Then a pair of boots stopped before her.

Li Rong looked up in surprise.

He was there, the bucket of water in his hands. He lifted it up, and looked at her, jerking his head towards the pathway.

"Xie xie," he thanked her, his words heavily-accented and almost incomprehensible. But she understood, and the attempt made her smile.

"Bu yong xie," she replied.

She began to move towards the well, but he lifted the bucket up again and gestured at the pathway. He pointed at the bucket he was holding, and then at her.

"Ni de," he said, and this time she understood. _Yours_. He wanted to help her carry the water.

She shook her head, reaching for the bucket but he shook his head too, insistent on helping her.

"Xie xie," he repeated.

Li Rong bit her lip. Being seen with a foreign man couldn't be good for her reputation. But he looked so earnest and she didn't know how to say no without seeming rude.

Against her better judgement, she nodded.

His eyes lit up and she couldn't help but stare into them – noticing the exotic hues of green and gold in their depths before her gaze was drawn to the bronze of his hair, the way it glinted red in the morning sun.

The colourful man fell into step beside her, wordless, the bucket swinging gently in one hand. A bow and some arrows were strapped to his back. Was he a warrior?

No, he couldn't be. Warriors were brutal. They didn't come to villages like hers asking for water – they killed, pillaged and raped.

There were a million questions she wanted to ask him – if only she could.

He didn't seem to mind her staring. In fact, he was doing the same to her. She turned as red as his hair and was glad they'd reached their destination. She took the bucket from him, bowing slightly to show her gratitude.

Eduardus paused unsurely at her doorway. His group had made camp a little way outside the village. They were resting for a day to restock, complete a map of this unchartered area, and learn the local customs before making their way to the capital.

He'd been assigned to observe the latter. Eduardus scratched his head, unsure how to ask if she needed help. She seemed to have already forgotten about him as she carried the water towards a stone basin, and began scrubbing some plates.

Hesitantly, he picked up a plate and dipped it into the water.

She froze, astonishment in her eyes, and this time, Eduardus knew why. Even in Rome, domestic chores were left to the women or slaves. Doing such tasks was considered effeminate and Eduardus began to feel foolish. The girl laughed suddenly, bright laughter that accentuated her already stunning beauty. It was bell-like, and goosebumps rose on Eduardus's skin as he realised it sounded exactly like her laughter in his dreams.

Li Rong didn't know why he wanted to help, but he was determined. She took the plate away, sparing the poor man the shame of doing a woman's task, and led him to the farm instead, showing him how to use the cast-iron plough. He brightened considerably.

She wanted to ask him if he didn't have better things to do, but he wouldn't understand her, so she simply went along with it. With his help, the work was done twice as fast, leaving them with a free evening.

Li Rong sat on the side of the field, glancing at him. What was his name?

As though reading her mind, he put a hand to his chest. "Eduardus," he said.

She didn't catch it. "Shen me?"

"Eduardus," he repeated, his language strange, his tongue forming sounds her own could not.

"Ei-du-wa-du-se," she struggled.

"Eduarrrdus," he emphasised, making that peculiar sound again.

"Ei-du-warl-dus," she repeated helplessly, and he laughed, saying something she couldn't understand. His amusement was clear.

She gave his shoulder a playful push, and pointed at herself. "Li Rong."

It was his turn to stumble.

"Li Rrrrong," he tried, and she shook her head vigorously.

"Li," she gestured downwards, showing the sinking tone of the first word. "Rong." She gestured upwards, showing the rising tone of the second word. She emphasized the lightness of the 'r' in her language, so unlike the one in his.

"Li Rrrong," he butchered her name again.

She mimed banging her head against the tree trunk and he laughed. He patted her arm. "Bella," he said. It was a name in his homeland with roots in splendour, a name befitting her.

She didn't catch his meaning.

"Rong," she said patiently, pointing at her lips. He watched the way her tongue curved at the back of her mouth.

"Rrleng," he failed so miserably that she couldn't help her laughter. She clutched her sides, tears in her eyes. When she caught her breath enough to look at him, he was standing with his arms crossed, smiling good-humouredly, but clearly in no mood to try again.

"Eduarrrdus," he motioned instead at his mouth, showing how the tip of his own tongue vibrated behind his teeth.

She just shook her head unwillingly and they both laughed.

"Bella," he repeated, motioning at her. "Pulchra es. _Bella_."

She shrugged.

"Bel-la," he said slowly, gesturing at her. He touched his face and gestured at hers. " _Hao_." He said the Serican word for good.

Li Rong thought she understood. Like so many others, he was trying to tell her she was beautiful.

"Bella?" she asked.

"Bella," he agreed.

"Mei li," she tried to teach him the correct word. "Bella – mei li."

"Mei li," he repeated. The tones were wrong, but it was close enough. She nodded, staring into his mesmerising eyes.

The vivid green was striking.

"Mei li," she said, and boldly, she reached to touch his eyelid.

Eduardus saw that it meant nothing to her – a gesture of friendship, perhaps, but she was so lovely, and he hungered for female company – something he'd sorely lacked during his long years at sea. There had been the occasional woman who'd been willing to bed him for coin, but Eduardus found little satisfaction with them.

Without thinking, he rested an arm around her waist, pulling her slender body close to his.

Surprise flitted across her eyes and he realised his mistake.

"Ignosce mihi," he apologised, releasing her immediately. Hot embarrassment flooded through him. His father had been a man of high rank, and here he was, acting like a brute to a peasant girl.

To his surprise, she only laughed, breaking the tension easily.

The sun was beginning to set.

She walked towards her home, and when she reemerged, she had a bowl of steaming rice and some vegetables. She gave it to him together with two thin sticks of equal length – _kuai zi._ Eduardus had seen people in the market eat with them, but he'd been unable to. He realised that she had no bowl for herself.

He offered to share but she shook her head, smiling.

He frowned. She had to be hungry after the work they'd done. He took her by the hand and led her towards the trees, at the edges of the forest. When he reached for his bow and arrows, fear flashed in her eyes.

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, pointing at several birds in the red evening sky. Then he docked his smallest arrow, took aim and released it.

It cut through the air, swift and deadly. The bird fell out of the sky, and they made a fine meal of it.

She seemed mystified by his inability to use the _kuai zi_ and tried several times to teach him. But the sticks rebelled, criss-crossing over his fingers as though they were mocking him. When he reached for the rice with his fingers, she swatted his hand away.

She disappeared once again into the house, bringing out a wide, oddly-shaped spoon which had a short, thick handle that bottomed into a deep, flat head. A soup spoon? But he'd take what he could get.

They ate in comfortable silence.

"Bella," he said, leaning against her door, after their emptied bowls had been washed. Li Rong suddenly realised it was a name. A name he'd given her because he couldn't pronounce hers! She felt her lips curling upwards in amusement.

She could give him a name too. "Wei," she said teasingly.

"Wei?" he questioned.

"Wei," she decided, patting his shoulder. The name meant strength and she thought it apt for his skills with the arrow.

"Eduardus – Wei?" He seemed overly-pleased with the name.

She laughed. "Shi de." _Yes_.

"Ita," he told her. "Ita – shi de."

"Ita," she repeated, and he nodded. _Yes_.

The conversation was tapering off. He had no more reason to stay, but neither of them seemed willing to move. She stood unsurely at the door.

"Bella," he said softly.

Her heart beat with both nervousness and anticipation. They'd been toeing the line between propriety and cordiality all day.

He was just a passing traveller. She had her mother to worry about. She had the selection in Luoyang to worry about. She had food to worry about.

He was sweet, but she had no future with him.

She started to close the door when he reached out unexpectedly, taking her hand in his warm one.

Eduardus's heart hammered, but he'd gone through his decision several times over the last few hours. Yesterday, her beauty had captured his eyes, and today her soul had captured his heart. He didn't know if it was right, but he'd never felt that way about a woman before. He was going to trust his heart and give it a chance.

He touched the delicate material in his pocket.

His mother's gloves were made of sea-silk, and were extremely rare and valuable. In the past, chlamys – cloaks spun from this very same material were allowed to be worn only by the emperor and high-ranking officials.

The silky filaments – byssus – were released by pen shells. These gloves had been treated with lemon juice and shone gold – a shine that had yet to fade in the long years he'd been at sea and on foot.

"Me exspecta, quaeso," he murmured, pressing the sea-silk gloves into her hands. _Please wait for me._

He touched her cheek. _I will come back for you_.

Of course she didn't understand him, but she was a young girl from a small village. The odds of her still being there when he returned were high.

With that, he leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek, and left.

* * *

Li Rong ran her fingers over the soft material of the gloves, watching the way it glittered in the sun. She'd taken it out several times in the last few hours.

He'd kissed her.

Heat crept up her face again. No one had kissed her since she was a child, and yesterday she'd been too astounded to react. She brushed her fingers across the fabric once more. Her mother spun silk, and Li Rong often helped her – she knew that this textile was rare and valuable. Light but very warm, gold, scintillating – no doubt selling it would be enough to feed both her mother and her for a year.

She'd searched for him everywhere this morning to return the gift, but the travellers had already left.

Why had he given them to her?

Still deep in thought, Li Rong finished up her work for the day. She wiped her hands and opened the front door to find her mother seated at the dining table with a hard, stony expression. The heavy scent of alcoholic _huangjiu_ was thick in the air.

Before she could so much as ask what was wrong, her mother had spoken – her tone low and venomous, spitting out the words as though they left a bad taste in her mouth.

 _You fucked a foreign man, didn't you?_

Li Rong backed away, shocked. _No._

 _Don't lie to me!_ Her mother was beside herself with rage. The last time Li Rong had seen her so angry was when Li Rong nearly ruined their year's worth of harvest by sheer carelessness.

 _I didn't!_

Her mother shook her, her eyes filled with dismay. _Is that what you want to become? A whore?_ She cried. _After everything I've done for you!_

Li Rong stared at her in disbelief. _I_ didn't _!_ She said, with all the outrage she could muster.

Her mother gazed into her eyes, and Li Rong could see that she had been understood. But instead of calming down, her mother put her face in her hands, slumping down to the ground.

 _Old lady Xiu is telling everyone that she heard you fucking in the barn_.

Li Rong gaped. The elder was well-respected in their community. Her word was not taken lightly. _Why? I swear I didn't-_

 _The rumours are spreading. Nobody will marry you now._ Tears leaked from her mother's eyes, through her fingers. _That damn woman. She did this on purpose so that I will have no choice but to send you to the capital._

For a long moment, Li Rong could only stare, speechless, as her mother shook with silent tears. And then she pulled herself together.

 _I could stay,_ Li Rong said, putting an arm around her mother's shoulders. _I don't need to marry anyone. I could work on the farm._

Her mother looked up at her. _This is no life for a woman. My body aches, my fingers bleed. What will you do when I am gone? Nobody will want to associate with you after what old lady Xiu said._

Her mother rose, the sorrow already wiped clean from her face. _The money for your dowry – I have enough of it to send you to the capital. You will leave in two days._ Then she looked up at her daughter, her gaze severe. _You really didn't fuck him, did you? If you did, admit it now, because the imperial palace only takes virgins. They will find out._

 _I didn't._ Li Rong repeated, her jaw tightening, hating old lady Xiu.

Everything was a blur after that.

Leaving. The selection. The palace. Li Rong felt as though she'd aged ten years in the span of a few months. She thought about her last few moments home as she knelt on the cold platform. The wintry breeze caught the loose strands of her once-beautiful hair, now streaked with filth.

She had so many regrets.

Blacksmith Wen had caught her just as the wagon was leaving the village.

 _Li Rong_ , he said, concerned. _You don't have to go_. _Stay, and I'll make you my wife. I never did trust that old lady._

Li Rong shook her head.

 _Thank you,_ she'd said. _But I'll take my chances. My mother grows old and she needs money. Once I'm in the capital, I will send some back for her._

 _I will support your mother_ , Blacksmith Wen said, his hold tightening around her arm. _You don't have to pay my family any dowry._

It was a very generous offer, but she knew that he couldn't comfortably support Li Rong, her mother, and his own parents as well. She didn't want to burden him like that.

 _That's very kind of you, but I cannot accept_.

 _Li Rong, I'm serious._ His eyes were sincere. _I've always cared about you. We will manage._

She gazed back at him, wavering. But then she remembered what her mother said about nobody wanting to associate with her. If she married him, would his patrons still come? What if her reputation ruined his trade?

Li Rong turned away, her chest aching. _I cannot accept._

Sorrow coloured his features. _Is there nothing I can do?_

 _Girl, are you coming or not?_ The wagon driver interrupted them. _We don't have all day. We best reach the nearest city before nightfall._

 _Please take care of my mother_ , Li Rong told the blacksmith.

He sighed, before nodding. Then right before she climbed back onto the wagon, he gave her a tight hug. _Take care of yourself._

It was the last time she'd seen blacksmith Wen, her mother or anyone else in her village.

Li Rong stared at the wood beneath her. It was old, covered with bloodstains of the condemned and splotched with melted tears from the bleak sky. Commoners and ministers alike crowded around the podium, their lips forming words she didn't hear – didn't care to hear. Everything had grown meaningless in the last few days. The mother she'd stayed for was dead, the man she loved gone, her own life coming to an abrupt close.

The air must be freezing, but she was too numb to feel the cold. More memories flooded her mind – more regrets.

She'd fallen asleep amidst the rice sacks at the back of the wagon when someone had murdered the driver. It was dark, and they hadn't seen her as she'd run, terrified.

A clap of thunder, a torrent of rain, and she'd shivered under the weight of it all, frightened, wanting badly to cry but knowing that it wouldn't do any good.

 _Chi de ku zhong ku, fang wei ren shang ren_.

The words she'd always heard whenever adversity would strike. _Only by withstanding the hardest of hardships can you learn to soar._ She had to care for her mother, who had painstakingly raised her. She wasn't a son; she couldn't be a breadwinner or continue the family name, but she could at least do this.

She let go of her fear, squaring her shoulders to continue onwards. Giving up wasn't a choice. If she had to, she would walk to the capital.

 _Where is Luoyang_?

She'd asked, and people had pointed.

 _How can I get to Luoyang?_

Someone finally told her that a procession of men was also moving in the same direction. By this time, she'd walked for so many weeks, eating leftover food and sleeping on the sides of roads, that she was feverish.

In her delirium, she thought she saw the ghost of the man who'd given her the gloves. She reached out, her vision swimming, and then she'd collapsed.

Eduardus caught the waif instinctively.

It was pouring so heavily that it reminded him of the monsoons in the south. Through it all, he was stunned to realise that he recognised her.

"Bella?" he ventured, hardly daring to believe it.

Her eyes were lovelier than he remembered, burning with the same resolute life-force that had beckoned his spirit. She reached out, touching his cheek, and uttered a single word. "Luoyang."

All his doubts vanished. It was her – his Bella.

He hugged her shivering form, cradling her protectively against him. She was even thinner than before, light as a feather despite the heavy material of her drenched clothes.

"Tu salva nunc," he murmured to the unconscious girl, pulling out his cloak to shelter her from the rain as he carried her back to their sanctum. _You're safe now._

 _Who is that, Eduardus?_ Marcus asked curiously, staring at the girl in his arms.

 _The girl I told you about,_ he replied. _The one I wished to bring with us._

Marcus had never been one to pry. He gave her a once-over. _She is wet. Change her clothes or she'll become more ill._ Then he turned over and continued to slumber.

Eduardus dragged the animal-skin rug closer to the fireplace, still holding her to his chest with one arm.

Their meeting seemed preordained.

It was unnerving, how the restless, niggling discomfort that had wormed its way into his chest in the past weeks vanished so suddenly. The same feeling had culminated to an unbearable crescendo tonight – the reason he'd risen in the dead of the night to stretch his legs.

He turned to the girl. Even in one arm, her weight felt like nothing to him. She was so small, so fragile – what was she doing this far from home?

He put a hand to her flushed skin and found her forehead burning hot, the way his father's had been before he'd died at sea.

His stomach tightened.

Clumsily, he worked to remove her sash, struggling with it until he found the knot at the base of her spine. He hung the soaked material over the fireplace before carefully removing her long robe. A thinner gown was inside, so wet that it was plastered to her skin.

His heart leapt as he saw the outline of familiar gloves tucked against her breast. Gently, he peeled the undergarment away. The sensation caused her to stir. She tried to sit up, but he put a calming hand on her shoulder.

"L-Luoyang," she said weakly, determination fierce in her eyes despite the violent shivers wracking her body. A hand found his shoulder, gripping it with unexpected strength. "Wo yao q-qu Luoyang."

"Luoyang?" Eduardus had repeated, keeping his voice soft. She was so ill. Was she asking where he was going? He couldn't imagine what she wanted to do in the capital.

"Luoyang," she agreed. The word seemed to soothe her, so he said it again.

"Luoyang."

She wilted in his arms, her eyes becoming unfocused, too exhausted and sick to care about modesty. He freed her from the damp clothes, wrapping his dry tunic around her.

As he cocooned her with more blankets, she clung tightly to him, holding on long after she fell asleep. He brushed the wet strands away from her forehead, shifting her hair so that it no longer pressed against her cold skin. A sigh escaped her lips as he enfolded her body into his warmth.

In the days that passed, she grew stronger.

Colour returned to her cheeks, but the humour he remembered did not. If anything, after she'd thanked him she became strangely distant.

"Ni de," she said one day, looking earnest as she pressed the gloves into his hands.

He shook his head. "Ni de," he parroted her, pushing them firmly back.

She tried to return them several more times, but he refused to take back the gift.

The attempts, together with her reticence, pained him more than he'd like to admit.

He would've acknowledged the dismissal if it hadn't been for his certainty that she returned his feelings; despite her apparently aloofness, there was brilliant joy dancing in her irises when she was unguarded. He saw her slight tremble each time their skins brushed. He caught her wistful expressions when she thought he wasn't looking. He felt all these, felt the tension as though it were his own, attuned to her as he'd never been to another.

Eduardus was certain that there was another reason she held herself so distant – and he was determined to unearth the cause.

But as warmly as her eyes appeared to glow in those rare moments, she remained largely reserved and stiffly inexpressive. It seemed that no amount of coaxing would break her cold veneer.

More and more often, he began to doubt himself. He didn't know how to react to her conflicting behaviour.

She rarely initiated contact with him, but he would often find his clothes washed after her baths. She didn't smile at his comrades, but she was observant and resourceful, often grasping and finding what they needed – water, firewood, food – despite not understanding their tongue.

He couldn't decide whether she found them offensive, or if her way of expressing care and loyalty was different from what they were used to.

An incident in the north settled the matter.

Dusk had descended over the sky, sending vivid bursts of colour streaking across it. They were riding quickly, keen on reaching the next city before darkness when the rumble of louder hooves surrounded them, shaking the earth.

Serican imperial soldiers – trained, heavily-armoured and with war horses – circled them. Sharp eyes scanned the weapons their group wielded, mistaking them for enemy soldiers.

There were no shouts, no warning.

Arrows were docked, weapons mercilessly brandished, aimed particularly at Marcus, who was at the head. A bead of blood had begun to form at his throat when she slipped off Eduardus's horse.

He lunged forward to stop her, but several spears were thrust before his face, barring any further movement.

Everything happened so fast.

A flash of silver, the whistle of metal cutting through air, and terror ran down his spine as he expected to see her lifeless body overrun with blood.

But the soldier had paused upon seeing one of his own, and the tip of the blade merely pressed over her heart.

Her beautiful face glowed brilliantly in the setting sun, her expression stoic. She seemed unnaturally calm as she began to speak – incomprehensible, tonal words of the Seres.

She pointed towards their caravan of offerings.

More words were exchanged – skeptical, then curious and finally amenable. Orders were barked, and a thorough search of their caravan was conducted to discover only gifts.

The soldiers released Marcus, and someone who appeared to be a general bowed with his hands clasped – fist pressed against palm – and presented them with a map. The procession of soldiers rode away.

He could feel her trembling when he helped her back onto his mare.

After that incident, any misgiving regarding her presence was quelled. Eduardus was given permission to trade small gifts for her – gifts she once again refused until he insisted: pins for her hair, a second Hanfu.

Eduardus let himself fall deeper for her, vowing to bring her home. He would find a way to marry her. He'd wanted to wait. But one night, he hadn't been able to resist.

It was this one night that would haunt him in the weeks to come.

She slept on a separate rug, near his own. He'd reached out for her that night, resting his hand against her cheek. She'd opened her midnight eyes and hadn't stopped him as he ran his thumb against her bottom lip.

Her skin was smooth, firm, and her bones were delicate. He ran his hands through the silk that was her hair, pulling out the intricate butterfly pins so that it spilled over her shoulders and collarbones. The silver chains tinkled quietly, and he laid them to the side.

"Bella," he murmured. He saw, in the light of the fire, the way her pupils expanded as she watched him as though spellbound.

It made him bold.

Leaning in, he captured her lips, moving tenderly at first, and then more possessively, claiming her as though she were already his. She shivered, gradually returning the intensity his passion with her own, fingers knotting in his hair.

A hand down her spine, a light pull, and the sash fell to the ground with a whisper. He tugged the fabric down her shoulders, kissing down her neck, the swell of her breasts. Her body softened under him, and she arched, the breath escaping her throat in quiet gasps.

He watched her intently, savouring her pleasure. He was loosening her inner garment when all of a sudden, shutters dropped over her previously expressive eyes. She drew away from him with an abruptness that felt like a blow.

He stopped touching her.

Cloths rustled, the sash retied and her form became still once more. Heavy silence settled. The seconds dragged, agonisingly long.

"Me paenitet," he apologised quietly.

"Luoyang," she murmured. Her eyes were sad.

There was no mistaking it this time. She wanted to go to the capital. Did she have a lover there? A betrothed?

His heart clenched. Before he could think or speak, she'd wrapped her arms around him, painfully tight, pulling their bodies close together with what felt like desperation.

It was confusing.

She seemed to have feelings for him, and yet she rejected his advances. He didn't understand.

But then she was running her fingers reverently through his hair, over his face, down his back – more affection than she'd ever shown him before – and he lost himself in her touches, her kisses.

He should've known it was her way of saying goodbye.

When he woke the next morning, he found the Hanfu he'd traded for her neatly folded on her rug, together with all the hairpins he'd given her. Even the gloves.

He sat up, ramrod straight.

He'd run for what felt like forever, agitatedly searching for her, but in every corner, every place he looked, she was missing. When he returned to the camp, hours later, panic still saturated his body.

 _She's gone!_

Marcus whipped around, his eyes narrowed. _Check the caravan!_ He ordered. _Did she steal anything?_

 _No_ , Eduardus said numbly. _Nothing. She took nothing._ He stared at the gloves in his hands.

Marcus turned to the caravan driver.

 _Nothing is missing, sir._

Confusion flitted over Marcus's expression. Then it turned into sympathy. He put a hand on Eduardus's shoulder. _It was not meant to be,_ he only said.

* * *

Li Rong should've bid him a proper goodbye, but he wouldn't have let her go. Even if she could write, he had no way of fathoming her language. She hardened the ache in her heart as the cart rolled over hard, uneven gravel, finally carrying her to the capital.

Encountering the soldiers had been a stroke of luck, terrifying as it had been. They'd told her how to get to Luoyang, and she'd seized the first opportunity to do so. It was a good thing she left when she did because she didn't know how much longer her restraint would've held out.

It had taken everything she had to remain stone-cold towards him.

He as a good man, and she hadn't wanted to hurt him. Unwisely, she'd even fallen in love with him. But she had to care for her aging mother, who'd toiled to feed her for sixteen years. She couldn't abandon her family to cavort with a man she barely knew.

Li Rong swallowed, doing her best to ignore the throbbing hollowness in her chest as she watched dawn breaking over the horizon, splashing vibrant colours across the skies, so at odds with the bleak emptiness she was feeling.

Money. She needed to send money back to her mother.

In hindsight, she saw how naïve her plans had been. She'd been deceived by the opulence – the fresh food, the spacious rooms, the lavish clothing – and she'd been wholly unprepared for what awaited her.

Life in the palace was brutal.

She'd been tasked with bringing tea to the emperor, and she'd bowed as she presented the tray to him. He'd caught her face in his hand, his eyes lighting up with fascination.

 _Why, how beautiful you are!_ Emperor Liu Zhi told her, mesmerised by her face. _How is it that I've never seen you before?_

She'd turned red, flustered, dreading that he would visit her chambers after the long weeks of being invisible among four thousand others.

Her fears had been short-sighted.

Empress Dou had been seated beside the emperor when he'd praised her. Li Rong hadn't seen the flash of resentment in her eyes. She'd invited Li Rong to her private chambers, her manner sweet and friendly as she'd offered tea.

Li Rong had vomitted for days afterwards, her stomach cramping as she broke into a fever and stained her bedding with sweat and blood. She hadn't connected her sickness to the tea until Consort Tian Sheng had pulled her aside, telling her never to drink anything Empress Dou offered.

 _I was pregnant once – a son_ , Consort Tian Sheng told her. _She presented tea to me, and I lost the child_.

The peaceful illusion was shattered. Li Rong became more aware than ever of the ranks within the palace – the Empress at the top, followed by the various consorts, and lastly, the simple concubines – which came with power, privileges and protection.

Li Rong lived in fear, which intensified when she received word from her ailing mother. Her position in the palace was too low for her to send much money home. To increase her stature, she needed the emperor's favour, which came at the price of the empress's wrath. She was terrified of Empress Dou and the other consorts, she was terrified of intimacy with the emperor, and she worried endlessly for her mother's illness.

She became withdrawn and tearful, lying awake most nights burdened with these thoughts. Home felt like a world away.

* * *

The capital was surrounded by high mountains and the palace was magnificent, lavishly sculpted, painted and ornamented with decadent excess. But what struck Eduardus the most was the amount of concubines the emperor possessed.

Four thousand!

Eduardus could hardly believe it. Concubines existed in Rome, but only when the woman's status was considered unequal to the man she wished to marry. The possession of a concubine in addition to a wife was forbidden in their strictly monogamous society.

Along their journey, he'd come to see and accept men who had two, three and even four women, but _four thousand!_ His head swam. It was a debauchery.

He'd been dumbfounded when Marcus first told him. How did one have relations with four thousand women?

 _It is their way,_ Marcus simply said, shrugging indifferently. _We are here only to trade, to forge an alliance._

Eduardus couldn't find it in himself to feel aghast for long. Although he hid it well, he was still consumed by the pain of his Bella's disappearance. His heart throbbed constantly at her absence, and he'd relived that night over and over again, berating himself for each minuscule mistake he might've done to drive her away.

The wound was still fresh when they'd entered the majestic gates of the palace, led by the imperial guards.

Then he'd glimpsed her in the gardens.

Eduardus could hardly believe his eyes. The girl who haunted his dreams was here. The girl for whom he'd promised to return. The girl who'd stolen his heart.

He looked again. Her face was pinched and pale, her hair adorned with ornate jewels, but there was no mistaking it. After their long months together, he would recognise her anywhere. It was her!

 _Don't stare at the concubines, it will get you killed,_ Marcus muttered.

Eduardus lowered his eyes quickly. He already knew that, but he hadn't been able to help himself. She was here! She was in Luoyang! In the palace!

His mind spun, and he could barely concentrate as they'd knelt before the emperor and presented their gifts.

He'd held her flush to him before. He'd held her breathless in his arms, tasted the softness of her skin. Now he understood why she'd never wanted to consummate their union. She'd been meant for the emperor.

The ache grew in his chest, unbearable.

Four thousand women. Did the emperor even notice her? Did he notice the gentleness in her eyes, the way her lashes lowered whenever she was bashful, the slight turn of her lips as she spoke?

He'd promised to come back for her, but how could he now?

Eduardus never felt such a fierce ache before. He'd fallen for her, and he'd fallen hard.

The love made him blind.

 _Four thousand others_ , he kept repeating to himself. Surely no one would miss one among so many.

Now that he saw her, he couldn't lose her again.

He wouldn't approach her while Marcus and everyone else was still here. He could endanger himself, but not the rest of the company.

When they'd finished their dealings, Eduardus spoke to Marcus.

 _Go on ahead,_ he said. _I still wish to see the city. I will meet you at the Rinan harbour in a few days._

Marcus raised his eyebrows. _The journey is a dangerous one to take alone. If you wish to see the city, we will wait._

Eduardus shook his head. _I will be fine._

 _It's not the city you wish to see, is it?_ Marcus guessed.

Eduardus didn't reply for a long time.

 _No_ , he admitted finally.

Marcus folded his arms. _The concubines belong to the emperor. You must accept that. You cannot have her._

 _He has four thousand others!_

 _It matters not_ , Marcus said, his voice maddeningly patient. _It is their way._

 _It is barbaric!_ Eduardus shot back.

 _They find some of our ways barbaric as well._

When Eduardus didn't answer, Marcus's voice turned harsh.

 _Eduardus. You will not stay for her, you will not speak to her, you will not even look at her. If you continue what you are doing, I will be forced to renounce you as a deserter._

Eduardus's eyes flew to Marcus in shock, but the older man's gaze remained steady. _You must understand that I cannot let you damage our relation with Serica or threaten the safety of the others. This is the last we will speak of it._

Eduardus's chest was heavy as they departed.

Marcus put a hand on his shoulder. _If you bring her back to Rome, she will be nothing more than a slave,_ he said. _Let the girl be. Fate does not bless your union._

He was right, but Eduardus's heart refused to let her go. As they neared Luoyang's border, he turned his horse around, separating from the rest. He heard his comrades yelling for him, but ignored them.

He would stay. He would bring her beyond Serica, before Rome, and dwell elsewhere with her.

 _Let him go,_ he heard Marcus order, and the pursuing hooves ceased. As he looked back at their silhouettes, loneliness gnawed in his gut, overshadowed by his determination.

* * *

Li Rong hadn't known how Eduardus managed to sneak a message to the high eunuch, or why the high eunuch let her meet with him when she'd asked.

She should've known that Empress Dou had been behind it. But despite her growing awareness of the dangers within the palace, she'd grown up as a simple girl. She had no experience with the royal intricacies – no true idea of how much hatred the empress had come to harbour or how far her schemes could go.

Naïvely, she'd accepted the eunuch's words, and under his instructions, she'd left the palace in the dead of the night with a shawl wrapped around her hair.

Eduardus was waiting for her under one of many flowering trees of plum blossoms. The moon was full that night, and the air was infused by the flowers' sweet perfume.

Despite the cold, seeing him warmed her heart. The happiness that surged was overwhelming. It had been such a long time since she'd seen a familiar face, a face she could trust.

He opened his arms, and she ran to him. They embraced, and he spun her around in a joyful circle.

"Bella. Li Rrrong," he botched her name as usual, and she laughed quietly.

For a long time, they only held each other, relishing in the comfort, the sense of completion offered by the reunion.

Then he kissed her. This time, she'd kissed him back, uninhibited as she'd never been before.

Eduardus held her delicate face between his hands, smiling as his heart soared.

She'd always been beautiful, and now, dressed in the finery offered by the palace, it was as though she'd stepped out of a Serican lore – a princess brought forth to life. It almost hurt to look at her.

"Mecum veni," he bade her to come with him. "Exspecta," he said softly, leading her to his horse, to his packed bags.

It was still raining petals – pale pink, crimsons and whites.

She understood his message, but she couldn't leave. She had to care for her mother. And the imperial guards would notice her departure. They would be captured, and he would be put to death.

Li Rong shook her head.

"Ni he wo de ma ma," she said and drew a line over her throat.

His eyes lit up with understanding. 'Ma' was universal. "Mater? Ma?" he repeated.

She nodded.

His heart sank. They would seize her mother, should she leave. And his horse could not bear the weight of three. Marcus had been right after all – they weren't meant to be.

He wanted nothing but to take her and leave, but he'd never rob her of her will like that. Crushed, he resigned himself to their farewell, embracing her for the last time.

When they broke apart, she waved with a small smile. He couldn't bring himself to do the same. He only stood numbly, watching her make her way back to the palace. She waited for several long minutes, watching him in the darkness, before finally disappearing into the grand gates.

Smoke unfurled from the quaint, curved edges of the roof. Eduardus mounted his horse, his heart hurting as once again, he reached the outskirts of the city.

A thought suddenly struck him.

It shouldn't have been so easy for him to gain access to a royal concubine. In his haste, he hadn't given a thought to it, but now a horrible idea occurred to him.

The sky began to weep snow tears, but the fragrance continued to bloom around him, sweet and subtle, reminding him of his Bella's scent. It was the bitter cold that brought forth their aroma, and Eduardus suddenly realised why the flowers signified endurance to the Seres.

He turned and galloped back the way he came.

* * *

Empress Dou had bribed the eunuchs to spy on her. Her every step had been under observation. Perhaps if she'd known, she wouldn't have been in this position – stripped of her royal garments and placed in chains upon her return.

She should've stayed with him when she had the chance.

But she hadn't known. She hadn't known so many things. She'd only wanted to be a filial daughter and protect her mother, the way she'd been raised to do. And now she was going to made an example of to the other concubines.

Words were read out, meaningless words listing crimes she'd committed – some true, most not.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

She exhaled, watching the mist form from the shallow breaths she could manage in the tight bindings. She was tired, and everything ached. Death would be a welcome mercy.

As the blade rose, she thought about the one good decision she'd made. She'd convinced him to leave. He was safe. He didn't have to see her like this. In that one thought, she found peace.

* * *

It took him another half a day to ride back. Snow fell in heaps, enshrouding the clouds and the curved roofs in pure white, tipping the tops of the mountains surrounding the city. His mare whinied forlornly, its limbs sinking in the thick snow with every step.

A crowd had gathered despite the blizzard, and he felt his insides turn to ice when he saw who was kneeling at its centre.

 _No!_

For a moment, he could only stare, stunned by the sight. He knew how cruel and petty courtly schemes could be – his family had been enmeshed in several. He had feared, but he'd not foreseen the gravity of her situation.

His heart pounded wildly.

The scene unfolded before him like a nightmare – his beloved pale-lipped and seemingly resigned to her fate, the grim crowd and the thickset man whose wide knife gleamed at his hip.

He couldn't let it happen.

As the executioner lifted his blade, a reckless idea occurred to him – born of desperation and heartbreak.

He knew he couldn't save her, not with the imperial guards on watch.

But he couldn't stand by and do nothing. He _couldn't._

He raised his bow, fighting to keep his trembling hands steady. The string twanged, sharp and shrill to his heightened senses, the arrow cutting through the air.

His aim was true.

The descending blade dropped on the ground like an overripe fruit. A gurgling sound and it was the executioner who dropped dead. The crowd watched in shock and incredulity, and the elite guards turned, their sharp eyes trained on the intruder – _him._

Eduardus was in motion before anyone could think. He urged his horse forward, knocking people aside and leaping over the platform, the hooves punching holes in the wood, fear lending him strength as he scooped her up and planted her in front of him.

He lashed his horse again, and it galloped faster, its mouth frothing at the bit.

Shouts came from behind them. Arrows whistled, and he felt one pierce into his back and another into his shoulder. In the numb cold and wild panic, he barely felt the pain, continuing to lash his horse madly forward.

He could hear the thundering hooves and the jangle of metal as the imperial guards chased them through the trees, past the towering mountains that imprisoned them from both sides. No place to hide. No respite. The soldiers' horses were made for war, and faster. They were catching up. They fired more arrows, some of which whistled past his cheek, grazing his skin.

Blood trickled down his back and he gripped the reigns tighter as his wounds began to burn.

He could hear them gaining more and more ground. Someone shouted just a few feet behind him. Eduardus's blood roared in his ears. He was going to die. She was going to die. It was the end of them. It was-

The ground began to tremble.

As though by the will of the heavens, the heavy torrent of snow that had gathered over the last few days surged down the mountains, devastating and swift, burying the soldiers close enough to reach them and blocking the path of ones further away. The noise of hooves was drowned by the loud groaning as snow continued to collapse, shaking and creaking the very earth. Large trees cracked under the heavy mass, rocks slid, but the two of them miraculously escaped the avalanche unharmed.

Relief flooded through him, so great that the world seemed to grow bigger and brighter. But he didn't stop.

They rode for a long, long time over the rough terrain.

His shirt was soaked with blood by the time he dared to stop. Without a word, he cut loose Li Rong's bindings.

It was the first time he saw her cry. Tears streaked down her face, but she made no sound. Her arms and fingers were turning violet, stiff and trembling, and still she reached for the arrows at his back. He stopped her, capturing her cold palms between his sweaty ones. They'd dressed her in rags in the middle of winter.

He massaged gently, coaxing the blood to return. As soon as her fingers regained some mobility, she moved behind him, pulling the arrows out with surprising strength. And then she tore what little rags she wore, using them to staunch the bleeding.

Li Rong's heart bled each time he hissed with pain, taking great care to bind his wounds properly. She could hardly believe that he'd come back for her. She would've never blamed him even if he'd abandoned her. The emperor was not lenient with his punishments, and audacity like that would've earned him a slow, painful death.

He must've known, but still, he'd come.

His brashness stunned her. He'd been ready to die with her. If it hadn't been for the interference of fate, he would've died an agonising death.

She touched his cheek, her breath misting between them, wishing she could ask him _why_.

He leaned in, kissing her tenderly, his loving hands moving down to soothe her sore knees as he held her gaze with his piercing green ones.

Sea-green, grass-green, _brilliant_.

But she was looking beyond their colour, beyond the incomprehensibility of his mannerisms, of his tongue, and into his soul, into the universality of what he'd done for her – of what she'd done for him.

Love transcended.

The petals continued to fall.

His lips formed words, and she didn't need to understand their corporeal meaning. She saw it in his eyes, in his soul.

 _I love you._

* * *

 _ **Latin translations**_

 _Currite!: Run!_

 _Vadete celerius!: Go faster!_

 _Aquam indigemus: We need water_

 _Me excusa, domina...: Excuse me, miss..._

 _Aqua: Water_

 _Ubi?: Where?_

 _Non: No_

 _Faex: Shit_

 _Mehercle!: By Hercules!_

 _Gracias tibi ago: Thank you_

 _Amor a primo conspectu: Love at first sight_

 _Salve: Good morning/evening/welcome (a general greeting)_

 _Pulchra es: You're beautiful_

 _Ignosce mihi: Forgive me_

 _Ita: Yes_

 _Me exspecta, quaeso: Please wait for me_

 _Tu salva nunc: You're safe now_

 _Me paenitet: I'm sorry (literal: I regret it)_

 _Mecum veni: Come with me_

 _Exspecta: Please_

 _Mater: Mother_

 _ **Chinese translations**_

 _Na me mei!_ _（那么美！）_ _: How beautiful!_

 _Ni yao shen me a?_ _（你要什么啊？）_ _: What do you need?_

 _Bie da le!_ _（别打了！）_ _: Stop fighting! (literal: Stop hitting!)_

 _Shui_ _（水）_ _: Water_

 _Ni bu xiang chi ya?_ _（你不想吃呀？）_ _: Don't you want to eat? (confrontational tone)_

 _Ye xu wo ke yi..._ _（也许我可以。。。）_ _: Maybe I can..._

 _Chi_ _（吃）_ _: Eat_

 _Xie xie_ _（谢谢）_ _: Thank you_

 _Bu yong xie_ _（不用谢）_ _: You're welcome (literal: No need to thank)_

 _Ni de_ _（你的）_ _: Yours_

 _Shen me?_ _（什么？）_ _: Pardon? (literal: what?)_

 _Hao_ _（好）_ _: Good_

 _Mei li_ _（美丽）_ _: Beautiful_

 _Kuai zi_ _（筷子）_ _: Chopsticks_

 _Chi de ku zhong ku, fang wei ren shang ren_ _（吃得苦中苦，方_ _为_ _人上人）_ _: Only by withstanding the hardest of hardships can you rise to become someone of value (literal: if you can eat the bitterest of the bitter, then you can become the man above men)_

 _Wo yao qu Luoyang_ _（我要去洛阳）_ _: I want to go to Luoyang_

 _Ni he wo de ma ma_ _（你和我的妈吗）：_ _you and my mother_

* * *

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